To link to the entire object, paste this link in email, IM or documentTo embed the entire object, paste this HTML in websiteTo link to this page, paste this link in email, IM or documentTo embed this page, paste this HTML in website

The Nelsonite vol. 11, no. 4

Page 3

GAME ROOM
continued from page 2
The video game room, located in Room 222 outside of
Gators, is a fund raising endeavor. The amount generated
last year .for the school was almost $10,100. This
represented 41% of the total monies collected from game
room activities. The vendor, WOMECO, received 59% of
the money. The school pays an annual amount to the state
of $1,100 to cover the cost of utilities. The remainder of
the money is pooled with other revenue sources, but
indirectly, the bulk of the game room revenue goes to the
Student Government Association.
According to Dr. Stuart Bounds, the only reason that
the game room would be shut down is if it should become
detrimental to the school or to the student body. If there
are no behavior problems, we can expect to continue to
have the game room and its revenues enriching our student
activities fund.
STUDENT ESSAY
by Margie Taylor
On that particular late July Sunday afternoon the beach
should have been deserted. The blustery day was
unseasonably cool with temperatures in the 60's. The
ocean wind made the day seem colder. The waves were
erratic and turbulent, sometimes cresting five feet high.
Only the faithful who loved the beach would venture onto
the sand, pulling their beach wraps close to their bodies,
shielding the ocean wind with towels and blankets, and
searching for warmth behind a sand dune. Only the foolish
would venture into the water.
My husband and I walked along the shore's edge—too
cold to be comfortable, yet unwilling to leave. The beach's
allure propelled our steps. Suddenly a frantic man rushed
toward the lady in front of us and shouted, "Get the kids
out of the water. J. D.'s in trouble!" Terror seized her
face.
With the kids by their sides they ran toward the crowd
which had started to gather. Three men stepped from the
ocean waves carrying a limp body. "Get an ambulance!"
someone cried.
Swiftly, we ran toward a small apartment/motel com-plex.
To one of the men gazing at the crowd I implored,
"If you have a phone, please call an ambulance."
"Is he dead or alive?"
"I don't know. Someone just said to call an
ambulance." I fought the panic building inside; perhaps he
sensed it. He called to his daughter to phone for an
ambulance. She displayed the reaction and speed he
lacked.
Mouth-to-mouth resuscitation was being applied to the
still motionless body. Soon the sound of sirens could be
heard. The spectator crowd grew larger. A path was
cleared for the emergency crew carrying life support equip-ment.
They, too, administered mouth-to-mouth resuscita-tion,
which was followed by CPR. Their fists pounded the
\
man's chest. They waited and watched the heart monitor.
Again, they pounded his chest. Soon an intravenous solu-tion
was applied to his arm. There's hope, I thought. They
continued to work for a long time. Either the man was
alive and they were trying to stabilize his vital signs or he
was staring at death's face and they refused to give up.
The crowd continued to stare while the man's friends
paced. Was the thread of life growing weaker? Was
anyone thinking he could have been the motionless body
lying on the sand? Yet one older man, seemingly oblivious
to the situation, searched for coins and jewelry with his
metal detector. He scanned the sand and listened for
beeps, his eyes never looking upward.
A policeman pushed the crowd back so the emergency
vehicle could get through. Medics held the man's IV solu-tion
in place. There was still hope—the man must be alive
or he wouldn't need the solution. They drove off.
The evening news reported the lifeguard had closed the
public beach because of rough water. Those of us at the
less populated part of the beach had not known about the
closing; I wish we had. Seven hours later the man was
dead.
TRASHPILE
by Nerd
A Collection of Useless Questions
D'ja ever notice that, of all the students smoking in the
hallways, black males seem to be the least likely to be
yielding to this senselessdiversion? D'ja ever wonder why?
D'ja ever notice that the cost of education at community
colleges such as ours may include the inconvenience of
having a class cancelled? Translation: Enrollment dictates
course offerings nearly as much as curriculum
requirements.
D'ja ever notice that a lot of young male cops grow
mustaches?...Perhaps to make themselves look more
mature. Who cares?
D'ja ever wonder why it's still difficult to find a parking
place after so many thousands of dollars were spent on the
parking lot expansion at Gatorland?
D'ja ever wonder which miracle dishwashing liquid really
outcleans all the rest?...or which toilet tissue is really the
most cottony?...or which...? (It goes downhill from
there!)
D'ja ever wonder how long it would take to register for
classes if it wasn't for "early drop-off?" You should try it
"that other way" to appreciate the drop-off way.
TNCC Christian Fellowship meets on Wednesdays at 3 PM
in Room 162.

GAME ROOM
continued from page 2
The video game room, located in Room 222 outside of
Gators, is a fund raising endeavor. The amount generated
last year .for the school was almost $10,100. This
represented 41% of the total monies collected from game
room activities. The vendor, WOMECO, received 59% of
the money. The school pays an annual amount to the state
of $1,100 to cover the cost of utilities. The remainder of
the money is pooled with other revenue sources, but
indirectly, the bulk of the game room revenue goes to the
Student Government Association.
According to Dr. Stuart Bounds, the only reason that
the game room would be shut down is if it should become
detrimental to the school or to the student body. If there
are no behavior problems, we can expect to continue to
have the game room and its revenues enriching our student
activities fund.
STUDENT ESSAY
by Margie Taylor
On that particular late July Sunday afternoon the beach
should have been deserted. The blustery day was
unseasonably cool with temperatures in the 60's. The
ocean wind made the day seem colder. The waves were
erratic and turbulent, sometimes cresting five feet high.
Only the faithful who loved the beach would venture onto
the sand, pulling their beach wraps close to their bodies,
shielding the ocean wind with towels and blankets, and
searching for warmth behind a sand dune. Only the foolish
would venture into the water.
My husband and I walked along the shore's edge—too
cold to be comfortable, yet unwilling to leave. The beach's
allure propelled our steps. Suddenly a frantic man rushed
toward the lady in front of us and shouted, "Get the kids
out of the water. J. D.'s in trouble!" Terror seized her
face.
With the kids by their sides they ran toward the crowd
which had started to gather. Three men stepped from the
ocean waves carrying a limp body. "Get an ambulance!"
someone cried.
Swiftly, we ran toward a small apartment/motel com-plex.
To one of the men gazing at the crowd I implored,
"If you have a phone, please call an ambulance."
"Is he dead or alive?"
"I don't know. Someone just said to call an
ambulance." I fought the panic building inside; perhaps he
sensed it. He called to his daughter to phone for an
ambulance. She displayed the reaction and speed he
lacked.
Mouth-to-mouth resuscitation was being applied to the
still motionless body. Soon the sound of sirens could be
heard. The spectator crowd grew larger. A path was
cleared for the emergency crew carrying life support equip-ment.
They, too, administered mouth-to-mouth resuscita-tion,
which was followed by CPR. Their fists pounded the
\
man's chest. They waited and watched the heart monitor.
Again, they pounded his chest. Soon an intravenous solu-tion
was applied to his arm. There's hope, I thought. They
continued to work for a long time. Either the man was
alive and they were trying to stabilize his vital signs or he
was staring at death's face and they refused to give up.
The crowd continued to stare while the man's friends
paced. Was the thread of life growing weaker? Was
anyone thinking he could have been the motionless body
lying on the sand? Yet one older man, seemingly oblivious
to the situation, searched for coins and jewelry with his
metal detector. He scanned the sand and listened for
beeps, his eyes never looking upward.
A policeman pushed the crowd back so the emergency
vehicle could get through. Medics held the man's IV solu-tion
in place. There was still hope—the man must be alive
or he wouldn't need the solution. They drove off.
The evening news reported the lifeguard had closed the
public beach because of rough water. Those of us at the
less populated part of the beach had not known about the
closing; I wish we had. Seven hours later the man was
dead.
TRASHPILE
by Nerd
A Collection of Useless Questions
D'ja ever notice that, of all the students smoking in the
hallways, black males seem to be the least likely to be
yielding to this senselessdiversion? D'ja ever wonder why?
D'ja ever notice that the cost of education at community
colleges such as ours may include the inconvenience of
having a class cancelled? Translation: Enrollment dictates
course offerings nearly as much as curriculum
requirements.
D'ja ever notice that a lot of young male cops grow
mustaches?...Perhaps to make themselves look more
mature. Who cares?
D'ja ever wonder why it's still difficult to find a parking
place after so many thousands of dollars were spent on the
parking lot expansion at Gatorland?
D'ja ever wonder which miracle dishwashing liquid really
outcleans all the rest?...or which toilet tissue is really the
most cottony?...or which...? (It goes downhill from
there!)
D'ja ever wonder how long it would take to register for
classes if it wasn't for "early drop-off?" You should try it
"that other way" to appreciate the drop-off way.
TNCC Christian Fellowship meets on Wednesdays at 3 PM
in Room 162.